Part V

Japan.

It was a beautiful country. He couldn't understand why they called it "the heathen country"; no place as immeasurably beautiful and utterly peaceful as Japan could possibly be called "heathen." But then, the citizens of this country were not of the Catholic faith, a trait that would most definitely characterize them as just that: Heathen. Still, it was a beautiful country.

Father Duo Maxwell walked leisurely along the port of Okinawa, over the wooden docks, gazing out at the immense cerulean expanse of the Pacific Ocean stretched out endlessly before him. The bright orange sphere of the sun was just beginning to creep over the water's edge in the horizon, sending shards of fire piercing through the pale blue-violet of the morning sky, shimmering golden off the water's surface. A light breeze blew gently, ruffling the wild tangle of his bangs and playing with the long chestnut braid hanging down his back. He held a small black Bible in his hands, riffling absently through the pages as he walked, deciding which scripture to read at his introduction convocation that morning. He sighed, stopping at the edge of one of the docks to lean against the railing and watch the sun rise over the ocean. His interest was just not on God today. He still wondered if it ever was.

Maxwell sighed again, thinking back to his life before the priesthood, before he became a part of the Church and decided to take on a Jesuit mission to Japan. He was simply Duo then, a formerly nameless street rat scrounging the slums of London before he was taken in by an older boy named Solo, the leader of a group of homeless orphans much like himself who had banded together and worked as "sweepers", running the streets and gathering all they could in order to live a decent life. He smiled then, remembering his old friends and how the only troubles they had ever really had were what they would eat each night and how to stay out of trouble itself. It was Solo who had taught him everything he knew; how to survive, how to depend on himself. It was Solo who had christened him Duo.

But London would have no more of their childish antics. The authorities had stormed the abondoned warehouse where their group had been staying, threatening to arrest all of them and send them to a juvenile home, or worse yet, to a government sanctioned orphanage, much like the one Maxwell had escaped from at the age of six. It was then that the church stepped in. A man named Father Maxwell and one of his sisters, a kind, beautiful woman named Helen, negotiated with the London police and offered to take the children in. They would live in the church, take their lessons there, and hopefully be able to grow up into productive members of society. The police had reluctantly agreed.

Over the years, most of the children "sweepers" were adopted. Even Solo had gone on, promising the young Maxwell that one day, when he was established in his new job at one of the factories, he would come back and take him to live with him. He was married soon after. Maxwell had waited, believing in that promise, until soon it became clear that it was not to be. He stayed on in the church then, becoming an apprentice under Father Maxwell and learning the ways of the Catholic faith, knowing in his heart that this was not where his future lay but realizing that at least it was a beginning.

Maxwell laughed softly to himself at that thought, looking down at the black priest's garb he now wore, the long, heavy silver crucifix hanging on a chain around his neck. If the priesthood wasn't where his heart truly lay, he was a damn good actor. Father Maxwell had made sure of that, teaching the younger Maxwell everything he knew about the Church and the faith, catechizing him and schooling him on every scripture in the Book until he knew each prayer and invocation by heart. "The gift is in you," the elder Maxwell had said. "Use it and spread His word throughout the world." And so Maxwell had taken the Jesuit mission.

With London becoming increasingly Protestant, the true Catholics had had to relocate in order to practice their faith more freely. Many had gone to Spain, the hotbed of Catholicism, including the Maxwell Church. There they began anew and after the elder Father Maxwell died, with Sister Helen soon after, the younger priest was left to keep it running, serving as a place of worship for the English Catholic expatriates and other Anglo-European Catholics. When he turned eighteen, the Jesuit missionaries came to the church and asked him if he would join their leagues, travelling around the world to spread the word of God and gain new converts to a rapidly dying religion. Maxwell had remembered his mentor's words and immediately joined, leaving the Maxwell Church to his own young apprentice and departing for Japan with the Khushrenada fleet, a French-Spanish mission to Okinawa.

And now I am here, he thought, sighing deeply again and opening his Bible once more.

"Touji-san!" a young female voice called loudly behind him. "Touji-san, please come back here!"

Maxwell turned around, closing the Bible to see what had happened. A small boy in a short green robe and wooden sandals was running in his direction, heading straight for the dock's railing. The slats holding the railing upright were spaced widely apart, just large enough for a child to slip through and fall to his death at the water's edge. The boy was running right towards one of the spaces, eyes shining in awe as he gazed out at the ocean, laughing happily at the girl's desperate pleas.

Maxwell swiftly stooped down and caught the boy, wrapping him in gentle arms, the child just inches from reaching the dangerous opening. The boy shrieked and tried to fight, kicking at Maxwell's legs.

"Hey there, it's alright!" he said, trying his best to keep from laughing as the child continued to struggle. "I know the water looks nice, but there are much safer ways to go see it."

"Touji-san!" The female voice was closer now. A girl about Maxwell's own age ran to the now quiet child, taking him gently from Maxwell's arms and setting him down on the ground. "I told you never to run away from me! Mother will be so upset when she hears of this!" The girl turned to Maxwell then, eyes respectfully downcast, with an appreciative smile and bowed. "Arigatou, dono." She raised her eyes slightly and scanned over his face and body, her smile turning almost mischeivious.

"Douitashimashite, shoujo," Maxwell replied, his cheeks coloring as he realized the girl's eyes hadn't left him. He had encountered this many times before. The London street rat had grown into a tall, slender, handsome young man with the friendly, open face of an angel, large, shining violet eyes, and an equally friendly, beautiful smile. The black priest's robes did nothing to conceal the lean, finely crafted musculature of his body beneath them, either. The girl was transfixed. He tried his best to suppress a laugh. She finally turned back to her small brother.

"Come, Touji-san, Mother is waiting," she said, giving the child a firm pinch on the arm that sent the boy running back to his mother, laughing and howling. She turned back to Maxwell then and with a secret smile said softly, "Ja ne, koudanshi." Goodbye, handsome one. She blew a kiss and ran off.

Maxwell gazed after her, unable to keep the smile from curving his lips. He watched her return to her mother and then waited until the family had wandered off before he opened his Bible and began looking for a scripture once again. The convocation ceremony would begin soon.

It had been two days since Lord Yuy had left to consult the daimyos of the surrounding villages outside of his private estate, to prepare for the arrival of the Spanish. A man from the port had come to the house and told Lord Yuy of the fleet's arrival in Okinawa; it would only be a matter of time before they set foot in the village. Lord Yuy had left right away.

Two days both Hilde and Lady Relena had waited, staying up almost all night in case there was any word. The lady tried her best to remain calm and nonchalant, as if the prospect of her husband dying in battle before the birth of their first child had never crossed her mind. Hilde did all she could to keep the lady out of distress, entertaining her with stories from her tribal days in Germany and her adventures in Shanghai. They spent the nights together sleeping in each other's arms, kissing and caressing breasts and sex, rubbing each other's bodies in scented oils after hot baths together. Hilde made sure her lady was always pleased, always relaxed; the pregnancy was progressing quickly. Her smooth, flat stomach was beginning to grow more and more each day. Still, Lord Yuy did not return.

The night was cold when he finally did arrive back home. Lady Relena had fallen asleep earlier, the fatigue of pregnancy beginning to gnaw at her body. Her two attendants slept next to her on velvet mats on the floor. Hilde had covered each of them with a heavy woolen blanket while she stayed awake, sitting on the floor of the lady's chamber, clad only in a simple beige cotton robe, her long black hair falling in soft waves around her face and down her back, her body trembling with the cold that seemed to seep through the walls, through the shoji screens. The small lantern sitting by her side did little to provide any warmth.

Lord Yuy entered without warning, sliding the shoji screen aside with desperate urgency, his face a mask of concern as he glanced down at his sleeping wife. Hilde rose quickly to her feet, keeping her eyes down, her mouth opening to voice a greeting. It was then that Lord Yuy took her.

With no more than a glimpse to reassure himself that his lady was in good health, Lord Yuy crossed the space between himself and the nubile courtesan, barely making sure that a screen hid them from the view of the three sleeping women before he pushed her to the floor. Large, rough hands pushed Hilde's cotton robe down her shoulders, revealing her nakedness, still moist and glowing from the night's bath. He bent his head down to capture one small breast with his mouth, catching the pert nipple between his teeth. Hilde cried out softly as her master began to suckle her like a man starved, his other hand deftly untying the sash about her waist.

After pushing the folds of the robe aside, Lord Yuy moved his mouth back up to kiss her lips, his tongue easily parting her and gaining entry. Hilde kissed him back with all the desperation and tension she had been feeling in the days without him, the sheer terror of not knowing where he had been or if he was alright. She reached down to grasp his firm sex through his robes; she couldn't wait any longer.

Lord Yuy broke the kiss to gaze down into his lovely servant's face as he released himself and plunged down into her sweet embrace. Cries of utter ecstasy escaped both youths' lips as they became one, the torture of their separation becoming fully apparent in that one moment. Time was not wasted afterwards.

The sex was hard and passionate tonight, the thrusts violent and powerful, the end coming quickly. With a strangled cry of passion, Lord Yuy released himself, echoing Hilde's moan of his name as she tightened around him, and then the sweet stickiness of her own release against his stomach. He kissed her hungrily before pulling out, replacing his hot, throbbing cock with his equally hot mouth, ravishing her with his tongue, licking the salty sweet mixture of their fluids from her thighs and sex. He found the secret, sensitive place within the soft wet petals of her flower and lavished all of his attention upon it, sliding a hand under her small rear to gently tease her back entrance with his fingers.

Hilde closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip until she drew blood to keep the screams of sheer pleasure from escaping her lips, lifting her hips up to meet Lord Yuy's face, buried so deeply within her femininity. His expert tongue drove her mad, the fingers teasing at her rear edging close to insanity. The night was so cold; his saliva cooled on her skin from one stroke of his mouth to the next. She laced her fingers through the wild dark hair, the long bangs that hung in his face tickling her as he delved deeper and deeper into paradise. The teeth bit down on her; she came quickly.

"Heero-sama!" Her cry of his name turned into a wet, girlish moan of ecstasy as she felt her sex tremble and spill with release. She thrusted slowly into his beautiful face until the pleasure subsided, the icy chill of the night beginning to set in once again.

Lord Yuy rose, sweating and gasping for breath, the Prussian blue eyes gazing at her with fierce intensity, both love and lust etched into the handsome features of his exotic face. He kissed her stomach once, laying his head against it. Hilde stroked the long hair out of his eyes, caressed his brow. His breathing slowed gently. The women on the other side of the painted screen continued to sleep.

"The Spanish will be here tomorrow." The voice was emotionless as always; a monotone.

"Tomorrow it will begin."

Part VI

"I cannot believe how warm it is today! It's difficult to believe that it is really autumn when it feels so much like summer, ne?"

Lady Relena opened yet another window in her chamber to let the stiff, humid semblance of a breeze pass into the house. Despite the unusual heat and humidity after the icy night, the was beautiful; the sun shone like a golden medallion on the clear, glassy surface of the sky, the warm rays entering the house through all of the open windows and screens and lending a soft glow to the usually dark interior. The sparrows and cicadas chirped loudly in the garden outside.

Hilde gathered her long black hair in her hands behind her head, twisting it up deftly and securing it with a pair of green sticks. The back of her neck was sticky with sweat; she could feel it trickling down her back under her kimono. She sighed heavily.

"Sometimes I wish it /would/ turn cold already," the young courtesan said softly. "I hate being so hot. Are you feeling well in this weather, Mistress Relena?" She put the finishing touches on her hair and turned away from the open screen she had been gazing out of to look at her mistress.

Lady Relena lay sprawled on a rose-pattered chaise lounge, the only piece of European furniture she had been permitted to bring with her from France, lazily fanning herself with a small yellow paper fan. Her pink lips curved in a small smile as she lay a hand on her rounded stomach affectionately. "Yes, I am doing fine," she replied. "I think this weather is marvelous for him."

"Him?" Hilde asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. "But how do you know the baby will be a boy, Mistress Relena?" Lady Relena smiled. "I can feel it in his kicks," she said. "Come, feel how strong he is."

Hilde walked to her mistress's side and knelt down on the ground to gently rest her cheek against the other woman's abdomen. After a moment, she felt something stir beneath the pale yellow silk and then a small bump against her cheek. She laughed.

"You were right, Mistress Relena," she said, looking up at the lady with a smile. "He is definitely strong!"

A shoji screen quietly slid open then and an attendant entered, bowing with her head down as she presented another woman. Hilde moved away from her mistress and sank back to her knees, keeping her eyes down as the visitor entered.

"Ava Maria," a light female voice, gently accented in Italian, spoke. "Cannot a former mistress receive a decent welcome anymore?"

Hilde smiled and made her way gracefully across the floor to kiss the delicate feet encased in shiny black heels. "My lady, it is an honor to have you grace us with your presence this morning."

Lady Dorothy Catalonia smiled at Lady Relena above the supplicant young girl and slowly bent down to raise the girl's face to hers. "Perfect, bella mia," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Hilde's jeweled ear with one black lace-gloved hand. "But do not be foolish. There is no need for formality with your mistress, prediletta mia."

Hilde bowed her head graciously and climbed to her feet. "Thank you, Lady Dorothy," she said with a sweet smile.

Lady Dorothy rose to her feet as well and wrapped her beloved courtesan in her arms, claiming her mouth with her own in a passionate kiss. A gloved hand snaked down then between Hilde's legs, past the concealing fabric of her kimono, and touched the soft wetness. Hilde groaned through the kiss and Lady Dorothy pulled away, smiling with almost arrogant satisfaction: Her pet still knew who her true mistress was.

"I am happy that my Lady Hilde pleases you, sorella," Lady Dorothy continued, walking past the courtesan to her friend on the chaise lounge. They kissed each other's cheeks lightly, twice, in the European style.

Lady Relena smiled and motioned for Hilde to sit next to her. The girl quickly obliged. "Yes, I am very happy," she replied. "And my husband is most satisfied as well." Hilde looked away, a light blush coloring her cheeks.

Lady Dorothy laughed. "Yes, well, I imagined he would be," she said. "Though I am very glad nevertheless. And where is our gracious lord, while speaking of him?"

Lady Relena sighed. "He is currently in audience to the Spanish," she explained, her voice conveying her distress. "They arrived here in the village only this morning; their commander requested my lord's prescence right away." She seemed to almost spit these last words in hatred, speaking of the Spanish commander, Treize. He /had/ been a friend of Milliardo's, Hilde thought. Perhaps she knew him from before.

Lady Dorothy nodded. "Yes, of course," she said. "The Spanish. That is part of why I have come to visit this morning."

Hilde looked up. "Have you heard any news? Why do they wish to take over Lord Yuy's land and the port? Do you know why they have come here?" she asked, looking to her former mistress with wide, imploring eyes.

Lady Dorothy laughed. "Patience, prediletta mia!" she said, making Hilde blush once more. "I do not know all of that, but I do know that a part of the reason for their coming here is for religion. There is a new priest at the Catholic church in Okinawa who has arrived with them. A Jesuit."

Hilde listened to the rest of the conversation silently. She remembered hearing that word, Jesuit, when she and Lady Dorothy had attended the Catholic church together when she lived at the tea house. The Jesuits were considered to be the holiest of the Catholic priests in both Spain and all of Europe. Currently they were on missions around the world, especially in Asia, to convert the "heathens" to the ways of the Lord. Now there was one here in Japan. She was curious to see him.

"...I came here today to ask if you will permit me to take Lady Hilde with me to church on the Sabbath," Lady Dorothy finished, glancing over at the girl with a smile. "She is a very devout Catholic and I would so desire her company in meeting this strange new priest."

Hilde smiled. Another thing she now was that she hadn't been before: A Catholic. Lady Dorothy had made sure that in turning her into a "lady" she also gained some kind of religion. Being a devout Roman Catholic herself, of course Lady Dorothy had chosen Catholicism for her darling, properly catechizing her and teaching her the ways of the Church. Hilde had grown to love and appreciate the faith; it had helped to give her strength in coping with her strange new life in Japan.

Lady Relena nodded and smiled back. "Yes, I think that would be perfectly fine, my sister," she replied. "I will make sure she is ready for you then."

Lady Dorothy bowed her head. "Grazie, signora favore mia," she said. "I thank you, my gracious lady. I promise that I will not keep her away from you for very long." She smiled at Hilde who smiled shyly back.

The two European women continued to talk for the rest of the morning. Hilde sat quietly nearby, gazing out of the open shoji screen into the lovely garden, marvelling at the beauty of the shades of autumn, glistening red and gold in the hazy sun. Wispy gray clouds had begun to appear on the clear blue surface of the sky, like the splashes of a paintbrush onto an open canvas, and the afternoon turned a pale, shimmering grayish-gold. The cherry tree in the garden wavered in the breeze, sending more of the delicate crimson petals spiraling to the grassy floor. Hilde counted the flowers as they fell to the ground, longing to go outside and climb the tree, to sit in its branches and count the flowers as they descended softly to Earth. Lady Dorothy noticed her pet's distraction and dismissed her. The rain began to fall soon after.

Father Maxwell stepped into the hazy stillness of the afternoon, glad to finally be out of the dark, hot enclosure of Commander Treize's quarters, where he was having an audience with the high daimyo of this village, a Lord Heero Yuy. He wasn't interested in their political battles or treaties; he had simply come here to fulfill his promise to the elder Father Maxwell and the Church. And the day was too beautiful to waste indoors.

The mountain village outside of the busy Okinawa port was just as lovely, although much more peaceful and inviting than the crowded bustle of the port. The landscape was all lush sylvan forests against the backdrop of the jagged peaks of pale gray-blue mountains, with small temples and houses set into the leafy green expanse of the land. Village workers combed the rice fields silently, going about their daily work despite the intense humidity of the day.

As Maxwell followed the small dirt path past Treize's quarters and deeper into the mountain village, the sunlight began to recede into the depths of the sky until it was only a blanket over the gray clouds that threatened to pour rain any second. He tilted his head back to look up, praying that it would rain to cool off the hot, damp land and his own sticky, warm body beneath the confining priest's robes.

Maxwell continued to follow the path, quietly humming one of his favorite hymns, one that his beloved Sister Helen had taught him as a child, until he reached a vast, beautiful estate enclosed by a low bamboo fence. The clouds had opened by then and a light drizzle was falling, making the atmosphere seem to shimmer between the shafts of pale sunlight that perservered through the gray and giving it a dreamlike haze. Maxwell stopped before the fence, his breath catching in his throat. He gripped the crucifix around his neck tightly. The scene before him was certainly like something out of a dream.

The most beautiful girl he had ever seen sat perched in the branches of a cherry tree, straddling one branch as she reached forward to delicately pick one blossom off another. She was small and slender, her limbs graceful, her figure and face vying for dominance. Her alabaster skin was pale and smooth, setting a dramatic contrast to her beautiful, deep blue eyes and the long blue-black hair cascading down her back to her small waist, part of it held back with a pair of green sticks while the rest flowed free, strands hanging in her face. She was the earthly embodiment of the Virgin to Maxwell, pure and innocent as she picked the petals off the blossom and watched them flutter to the ground, the mixture of rain and sun dancing around her.

He noticed then that the girl had stopped picking her flowers then, and he was startlingly aware of the fact that she was nearly naked. An iridiscent green kimono lay in a silken heap at the foot of the tree, obviously discarded in a rush. The girl was clad only in a single natural-color robe that clung to the sweat on her breasts and thighs, making each luscious curve painfully apparent. The rain had soaked through the thin material even more, and Maxwell could clearly see the small, youthful breasts, nipples pushing perkily up through the fabric, and the gentle curve of her thighs leading up to her sex, covered modestly with only a scrap of the same natural-color material.

His body responded automatically, his sex stirring beneath the priest's robes. Maxwell clenched his teeth and gripped the crucifix tighter, the sharp silver edges digging into his palm. He could not let himself become affected; this was sinful. /She/ was sinful, a virgin no more. He watched silently, transfixed, as the girl cupped her beautiful young breasts in her hands, massaging gently, her head falling back and her lush, unnaturally red lips parting in a sensual moan. She fondled herself for a long moment and then slid one hand down her body, up under the skirt of her robe. Light fingertips brushed over the concealed sex before two fingers pushed the scrap of material away and plunged deep inside. Maxwell groaned softly; the crucifix cut deeper into his hand.

The girl began to rock passionately against her hand now, her hips rising up and down on the tree branch she precariously straddled, pushing herself closer and closer to ecstasy. Her moans intensified, her cries soft, kittenish, as her body responded to her wet hands on her, in her. Her other hand delved down into the pinkness; she rocked furiously now against both sets of fingers. The rain cascaded around her, the sun still shimmering dimly behind the curtain of water, bathing her in a wet, seductive light, the crimson petals of dying cherry blossoms showering her sprawled, provocative body. Maxwell felt his own body on fire although the rain was cold; the fire of Hell. The sweet, virginal beauty continued to committ her sin. Maxwell grunted in anguish, fighting the sensations that tore at his abdomen, at his sex, in witnessing the vision of this girl and the sheer eroticism she exuded. He closed his eyes.

Finally the girl cried out, a short, lovely utterance of raw pleasure. Maxwell opened his eyes slowly, gazing out at her through the wet strands of chestnut hair hanging in front of him as she brought her hands out from her skirt and delicately licked the sweetness of her release from her fingers. He sighed, his grip relaxing on the crucifix, his muscles loosening slowly. His hand bled in the imprint of Jesus; he looked away, ashamed, and began to pray.

"Dear Heavenly Father..."

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